Chapter 3

Posthouse Hotel, Greyton Main Road. Much later that evening.

I sat down on the bed, holding my cell with one hand to my ear and my other hand supporting my head.

“What move are they up to?”

“The grapevine says that they mobilised their ‘Security’ squad.”

“Security squad?”

“Yeah, the guys that make Quad Five’s problems go away.”

“Are you implying that they might consider violence against Andrea and me?”

“Sit, Dusty, sit! I might have something to tell you that you will get your ass in gear.”

“I am sitting down...”

“What I am about to tell you, you will not discuss with Miss Louw.”

“What?”

“After I spoke to you, I had one of my technical engineering guys go look at the Louw’s wrecked car.”

“And?”

“I don’t say it was Quad Five, but their car had signs on the body that it was pushed off the road.”

“They were murdered?”

“My team is busy with the investigation. So, no more moves from you. Go get the girl and get out of there. Pronto!”

“Okay...”

“Not, ‘okay.’ Get moving. If this thing with Miss Louw goes the same way as with the other three farms in the district, I can include this with what my client is already paying for. I don’t think he will object to it and be willing to include Miss Louw’s case as well. When you are in KZN, I’ll speak to you again with a better brief on the situation. Now! Go! Get the hell out of that one-horse-town.”

“Okay! We’re gone! And I am willing to help in getting this thing sorted out,” I said and disconnected. I then called Andrea.

“Hi, so sweet of you to phone and tell me good night.”

“Andrea, I need to speak with you urgently. Meet me in the garden.”

“I’m in my pyjamas...” Giggle.

“Andrea, get dressed and meet me, urgently.”

“What’s wrong, Dusty?”

“We need to get out of Greyton. Now.”

“Why?”

“Get dressed, pack your stuff and meet me by my car. I’ll tell you all then.”

“You sound stressed, Dusty.”

“Andrea, your life is in jeopardy. We don’t have time to waste. Move.”

“Okay, give me twenty minutes...” And she broke the connection.

The Miller household, Greyton. About the same time.

Edgar Miller was enjoying a glass of wine while watching some television. He appeared to be calm now, but inside... ‘The audacity of that young upstart! Threatening me with the Law Council. I’ll see that he gets what is coming to him.’

Then Edgar’s cell phone vibrated on the coffee table next to him.

“Yes?” He answered, recognising the number on the display.

“Okay ... Your problem is being dealt with.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight. Don’t be too surprised tomorrow morning if you see some activity at the hotel. There could have been a robbery...”

“A robbery?”

“People unfortunately get shot during robberies. The less you know, the better for you.”

The line went dead.

Posthouse hotel. Twenty minutes later.

Andrea came out, lugging her suitcase towards me and the SUV. I approached her and took the suitcase, then dropped it the vehicle’s luggage compartment next to mine and shut the back hatch door.

“Get in,” I said as I opened the passenger door for her.

“What is wrong, Dusty? You look serious.” Andrea was dressed in a t-shirt, jeans and running shoes with a light jacket thrown over her shoulders. Her hair was in a ponytail down her back, and she looked nervous.

I didn’t answer her straight away but got into the driver-side, started the SUV, then pressed the remote control to open the car gate.

After driving out and turning right onto the Greyton main road, I then half-turned my face to her.

“We have a problem, me and my big mouth. And now we provoked the lion in the shadows.”

“What are you talking about, Dusty?”

“The confrontation with Miller. Looks like he got scared and reported to the big boys. Quad Five is sending a security team out here to take care of the problem. Us!”

“What! How do you know?”

“My friend in dark places phoned me and told me.”

“How do you mean; ‘take care of the problem.’ How?”

“How do you think, Andrea? We know too much. At least they think we know too much. They want to silence us...”

“Silence us! How?”

“By killing us, pumpkin ... By killing us!”

“No! I told you I thought something sinister is going on!” Her eyes got big, then she grabbed hold of my left arm and sat forward in the seat. “Do you ... Dusty? Did they not...”

“Did not what, Andrea?”

“Kill ... my parents?” she asked. Her lower lip trembled and tears welled up in her eyes, making them shine in the dull glare of the dashboard lights.

I reached over the console and took her right hand in my left hand. Thank God for automatic transmissions.

This little blond blue-eye girl next to me is no dummy! She made it through her second year on a baccalaureate degree, so the grey matter between those dainty ears was highly intelligent. She could figure out stuff on her own. I was to discover later just how intelligent and versatile this little blond girl really was.

“They might have, Andrea. It is not beyond them...” I answered and avoided confirming what I knew.

“How can we confirm it?”

“I’ll ask my friend to investigate...” I, trying to evade what could be the truth.

“But your friend can get into trouble too.”

“I doubt it. But let’s not discuss my friend. Just say, he’s got ways to deal with things.” I prevaricated.

“Is he a policeman?”

“No.”

“Then how does he do what he does?”

“Andrea, leave it for now. Just say he runs a big organisation that can gather information and can act on it. Like the auction on Wednesday.”

“What about the auction?”

“It’s not going to happen. It’s been put on hold ... indefinitely.”

“Dusty? Who are you people?”

“Now I’m part of them?”

“Ain’t you?”

“No, I just do work for them from time to time. Just say they are the real-life A-team that needs a legal eagle to take care of some nitty-gritty stuff for them.”

Giggle. “I was thinking of the A-team.”

“So, drop the subject. The less you know, the better for your health.”

“Do such people really exist?”

“No. They don’t...”

“Then why do you say they do exist?”

“I did not say that they exist. I only made a comparison. Now, do you want an ice-cream?”

“No. And what has an ice-cream got to do with my question?”

“Because a ten-year-old asks fewer questions than you.”

“I just wanted to know...,” and she pouted and stared out the window at the darkness. I instantly felt like a rat for being sarcastic towards her.

“Andrea, I don’t have all the answers. All I know is that I have a get-out-of-jail free card if I need it.

“Did you ever need to use it, the get-out-of-jail-card?”

“No. This is the first time.”

She became silent, and I thought she fell asleep. The kilometres dragged on. I did not go faster than 80 kilometres an hour. This is rural country and there were farms all around us, replete with stray sheep that know where the holes in the fences are, and seem to like the roads.

It is only logical. The tar on the road is warm at night.

Some people believe that sheep are dumb. They are not dumb. They know that the tar road is hotter than the fields, so sometimes they sneak out or break through the fences and go lie in the road. You don’t want to hit a sheep laying down in the road at say, 120 kilometres an hour. It’s not good for your health ... and certainly not good for the sheep’s health.

I turned right onto the N2 Highway to Cape Town. The SUV’s headlights were on full bright, lighting the road before us. At this time of night, traffic was on the sparse side.

“Where are we going?” Andrea broke her long silence.

“To a nice condo on the KwaZulu-Natal south coast.”

“And are we driving there now?”

“No. We go to Stellenbosch first.”

“Oh, because if we need to go to Natal ... you should have turned left onto the N2 at the junction, not right.”

“Clever girl! But we’re not driving to Natal. We’re flying there...”

“FLY! But flying scares me!!” Instead of an expression of horror, I saw only a shy smile and big laughing eyes teasing me.

“Well, sweetie pie, then I will just have to tie you up and knock you out...” I chuckled.

Giggle. “Like the A-team did with BA? I’m just pulling your leg ... I love flying.”

“Then you are in for a treat. We fly in a twin engine Beechcraft Baron.”

“Oh, great! I always wanted to fly in a thing that’s not a Cessna.” And in the dim light of the dashboard, I could see the smile on her face and the excitement in her eyes.

“But ain’t they slow for such a long distance?’

“If you call 340 to 370 kilometres an hour slow, yes then they are slow. We are going to do roughly 1150 kilometres, about three to three and a half hours flying, but not all in one go. We have the range, but we’ll stop off somewhere for some sandwiches, and maybe top off the fuel.”

“Oh, goody.”

We were past “Boontjieskraal,” and crossing the bridge across the ‘Swart River.’ (Black River.) That was when I had to dim my headlights for an approaching car, coming at us at a high speed. Then the idiot shot past us in the opposite lane, going towards Caledon. I saw in the rearview mirror his brake-lights come on and then without indicating, he took the R406 to Greyton.

“Jeez, that guy is motoring!” Andrea said and turned in her seat, looking back at the fast-disappearing red taillights.

I watched his taillights fade away in the distance. He must have been doing 150 or 180 kilometres an hour, and I thought: “Bloody idiot! I just hope when you bleed, you don’t take innocent lives with you!”

A thought struck me; “Can this be the security team, going to take care of a problem? Well assholes, we’re not there! Have fun!”

Let’s look in for a moment in the left front seat of the blue SUV.

Hello, I’m Andrea Elizabeth Louw, twenty years and two months old. Yeah, I had my birthday a month after my parents ... Never mind. I told myself I won’t cry. I’m a big, big girl in a big, big world, but I miss my parents and our farm so much.

I miss my mom: the one who taught me dressmaking, cooking, and the finer things a girl should know.

But most of all, I miss my dad: the one who taught me how to drive a tractor, how to drive a harvester, and how to shoot with a rifle. At fifteen, I was the proud owner of a .22 “Saloon”. Why the folks around here called .22 rifles a “Saloontjie,” I don’t know. Maybe because it was just a step-up from the .177 air rifle.

In the blink of an eye, they were gone. Just like that. No warning, nothing. They were with me at Stellenbosch. Then hugs and kisses, and they drove off. Mom still waved at me through the car’s open window ... An hour later, I got the visit from a policeman...

I was lost. I can’t describe what I felt. The funeral ... The letter from the bank ... My world shattered into a thousand splinters. Did you ever hear glass break? Yeah, it’s about the same. No light, no sunshine, no-one to hug me...

Okay, there was lots and lots of people at the funeral that hugged and kissed, and promised: “We are there for you! Just say the word... ”

I said the word ... No-one came. Everyone just clucked their tongues and said; “Shame, poor kid.” But they were not around when I needed them.

What do I do? What can I do? I don’t know about all that stuff in the adult world. Yes, I am an adult. I can drive a car; drive a truck; drive a tractor; drive a harvester; and I can plant fifty hectares of wheat and maize. I can vote. I have a bank account, whatever that is. I think there’s about five thousand Rand in it. Five thousand Rand to get me back on my feet!

Dammit! The rent of the flat in Stellenbosch is six grand a month. Lucky, Dad paid it up front for twelve months. There are five months left. Then ... The streets? There’s no family I know of. Maybe a distant aunt, but where she lives, I don’t know.

There’s five hundred Rand in cash in my pouch. Okay four hundred and ninety bucks. I had to give ten bucks to this guy in the right seat, driving the car.

This guy in the right front seat. He came when the night was at its darkest. I wanted to go home; swallow my heartbreak and go to my home at Morningside Meadows. But that was out of bounds for me. The place was locked and there was security guarding the place, turning me away with the words; “Sorry, Ma’am, no can do. No-one is allowed in.”

Like a scolded puppy, I drove the eleven kilometres back to Greyton, hungry and without a place to stay. I didn’t cry. No, I had no more tears left. I can only go back to the flat in Stellenbosch, but for how long?

Then he came along, this guy in the right front seat: Dusty, a friendly face in the crowd, inviting me to sit down at his table and eat my “garage pie”. It was the cheapest on the menu, a “garage pie” and gravy. At least I could afford some coffee too.

I thought ‘That’s it. A nice gesture’. Next followed a massive slice of cheesecake, and then a room at the most expensive hotel in town. He paid for it. For two weeks up front!

At first I thought that he wanted into my panties. That wasn’t going to happen.

When he didn’t push it, I thought that was the end. He will just disappear and that would be that. No. That did not happen either. Okay, being in the same hotel meant that we were bound to run into one another again. And we did.

We had a mutual interest. Morningside Meadows. Or rather I had an interest in Morningside, and he wanted to visit the place his grandfather farmed on. The farm Nooitgedacht that’s now part of Morningside.

Then all hell broke loose and here we are, on our way to Stellenbosch. On our way to fly in a light plane to somewhere on the KZN south coast.

Little me, alone with this guy? And why did I feel electric sparks when he touched my hand in that spooky old place at Nooitgedacht? Was it the spooky place, or was there something else...?

No, it’s not the thought that this guy is a pilot, or even an advocate. It’s not the thought that he can be a meal ticket. Understand, I am a rich girl too; I just have to get my farm back, start a crop, harvest the crop and sell it. Easier said than done. Sigh...

It’s the way he treats me; the way he talks with me, not to me, not at me. No, he talks with me, listens to me, and gives his honest opinion and advice without forcing it on me. Okay, maybe in a playful way he guides me to decide, like lending me the 550 K to pay off the loan at the bank. He lets me be me ... Why would he do that? It’s so much money, and yet, he seems sincere.

Except for Mom and Dad, no-one ever treated me like he does. I’m scared to be alone with him, yet I feel safe and happy with him around. I’m beginning to trust him ... But I am scared, nervous. Don’t ask why. Is it the way I feel when I touch him? Or he touches me? He did looked a little dejected when I called him uncle Dusty. Well, he is fifteen years older than me, and I was raised to call everyone ten years older than me, “Uncle” or “Aunt.” Out of respect you see. Now days that goes out the window, but here in this small village, the tradition lives on.

On the moment, it looks like I might get Morningside Meadows back. There’s a chance, as he and his friends succeeded in stopping the auction. This makes me wonder what else these people can do.

I still giggle at the way Dusty took down poor old Edgar Miller. Dusty just invited Edgar to join us, and then fired into him, not giving him a chance to retaliate. Just shot him down in flames. And Edgar went down. Burning! But that crash had its consequences. Look where we are now! Running!

But we are not out of the woods yet. No, that is why we are on our way to KwaZulu-Natal. Someone is trying to take us out. That frightens me. Why do people want to take Morningside Meadows away from me ... and be prepared to kill me to get it? Why? Did they kill my parents too?

Then a car shot past us at a high speed.

“Jeez, that guy is motoring!” I said and turned in my seat, looking back at the fast-disappearing red taillights.

“He’s probably having a PPL,” Dusty replied, glancing in the rearview mirror.

“A PPL? What’s that?” I dared to ask. Silly me, I know what a PPL is, but not in the context of reference to a car.

“A Private Pilot’s Licence. He is doing good for low flying. He must have a Terrain Avoidance System installed, else he would have been a wet spot on a bridge support somewhere.” Dusty responded dryly.

I just chuckled. This guy is a hoot!

“If he hits something, what do you think would be the first thing that goes through his brain?” Dusty asked.

“I won’t know...” I said, still chuckling.

“His asshole...” Dusty replied, and again I was screaming with laughter. See what I mean? This guy is much older than me, but I feel safe with him, and not like he would be a substitute father ... A real friend, maybe? Maybe more than a friend? Who knows?

Stellenbosch Airfield.

I stopped at the airfield security gate, and a security guard came out of the building. He looked at the SUV and the disk on the windscreen. I wound down my window as he approached.

“Good evening, Sir, Mister De Lange, Sir!”

“Hello Charles, night shift again?”

“You know it, Sir. It pays well.” Chuckle.

“We are going out, Charles. I’ll leave the car inside the hangar.”

“No problem, Sir. Your passengers are already here and waiting at the hangar. A man and a Malaysian-looking chick.”

Andrea tensed up.

“Thanks, Charles. I appreciate it. Enjoy the rest of your shift.”

“Thank you, Mister De Lange. You keep well also,” he replied and waved us through. I drove on towards the hangar in the north-west corner of the airfield.

“Don’t worry. They brought us the keys to the condo,” I said, and Andrea relaxed.

Arriving at the hangar, I saw a car parked in front, but a little way off from the hangar doors. I drove up and parked next to it.

As I stepped out of the SUV, the front doors of the other car opened, and a man and a young girl got out. I looked them over. Yes, the mocha-devil and her milky-bar sidekick. How detailed a description Ash gave in only a few words.

“Mister De Lange? I am Roxy and this here is Bushy,” The girl made the introductions. Bushy gave me a handshake, and his grip was firm and solid. Roxy was dressed in a T-shirt and a medium length floral skirt. Bushy was dressed in a short sleeve shirt, and a pair of multi-pocketed cargo pants. His shirt was not tucked into his pants’ waist, but hung loose. A slight bulge on the right side gave the impression that he was carrying.

“There’s a slight change of plan, Mister De Lange...” Roxy said. “The boss felt that we should go with you. For security reasons.”

“Yes, he said to be around you, keep you in the eye, but out of your way,” Bushy added.